Better Than The Treadmill
by Laineyvb131
Summary: S6E8, set after the conversation in front of the window at The White House Residence. Because we all remember that line, and we all wanted the cardio.


A/N: Yes, I already did this once, and I think the other version (Just Keep Swimming) meshes more fluidly with the emotions of their conversation in the episode itself. But I couldn't get this out of my head, either, so I wrote both scenes. To be honest, I really just wanted Henry to rip that skirt as many times as possible- and President McCord seems way more productive after time spent with her husband. So you get the humorous version, too. It's still all just sex.

* * *

"Sure you don't want to do cardio with me?" Henry repeated, his tone laded with suggestion. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, surprised at his persistence.

"What do you have in mind?" Her question was soft, noncommittal, but the anxiety in her eyes began to fade, though into what, Henry didn't yet know. Encouraged by Elizabeth's reaction, he took her mouth again, harder this time, sliding his tongue against hers when her lips parted eagerly for him. Stroking his forearm elbow to wrist, Elizabeth interlaced their fingers, shifting their joined hands to rest against her throat. Henry drew back, watching her carefully, and Elizabeth nodded, almost imperceptibly, at the question in his gaze.

Henry's fingers cupped her neck, and his thumb stroked the delicate skin under which her pulse began to race. "I'm gonna fuck you, and you're gonna take it," he promised, in a near whisper, his voice gravelly with lust.

Elizabeth shuddered slightly and slowly closed her eyes. Her authority was being challenged from every angle, but with Henry, total surrender gave her the ultimate power. So she gave herself to him, and as she did, gained everything. She melted, relaxed into him, and forced her thoughts only on him.

When her eyes opened again, the brilliant blue blazed with desire, and her lips curved in a feline grin. "Do it, then," she challenged, grasping his wrist and squeezing lightly. Henry spread his palm wider, and the heat from his skin and the increased pressure sent a jolt of arousal through her body. Henry held her gaze, shifting his grip to her biceps, and took a step backward to lead her to their bedroom.

"No." Elizabeth stopped him. "Right here." She intentionally looked toward the window, then back to her husband.

"Really?" Henry drew the word out on a growl.

Elizabeth caught her bottom lip between her teeth, eagerly waiting for Henry's next move. He jerked her to her feet, spinning her so she was trapped between him and the couch. Her thighs pressed against the armrest, and Henry's growing erection nestled against the small of her back. Henry dragged down the collar of her blouse with his fingers, sweeping her hair from her face, so he could nibble at the tendons of her neck.

Elizabeth tilted her head in invitation, greedy for his touch, even as she warned him, "No marks. Not where they can be seen." She felt Henry's lips curve against her skin as his low laugh echoed in her ear. "Not there, then," he agreed, and licked the shell of her ear.

Henry raked his hand down her chest, popping the gold buttons until the fabric yielded to the force of his movements. The tiny metal pieces scattered, bouncing off the cushions and clattering lightly across the floor. When Elizabeth sputtered in protest, Henry replied, "I'll deal with those later. You're going to need another blouse today, anyway."

"But I liked this one." Her mock admonishment ended on a moan as Henry rubbed his palms in circles over her bra until her nipples peaked through the lace. Elizabeth's head fell back, her hair draping his shoulder in sunlight. Her back curved as she grabbed his hips to hold herself steady, pushing her breasts into his hands.

"I've seen your closet. You have plenty, and they all look the same." He pinched the stiffened points between his thumb and index finger, causing Elizabeth to bite off a shriek.

"No, they don't," Elizabeth countered, as indignantly as she could through the haze of passion. "God, you're such a man." She gasped as he slid his hands under the material of her bra, cupping her breasts in his hands.

He deliberately ground his groin into her ass, and Elizabeth swore she could feel him pulsing against her.

"But aren't you glad of that fact." With one hand still caressing her breast, Henry trailed the other down her torso, ghosting his fingers over her ribs, around her belly button, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

"Usually," she retorted, humor dancing with the lust in her tone. She grabbed his hand, pressing it between her legs. "Why don't you stop teasing and remind me why."

With a grunt, Henry wrenched his hand away and shoved it down the front of her waistband, but he couldn't reach far enough to touch her core. Frustrated with the hampered movement, he grasped the slit in her skirt with both hands, tugging in opposite directions. The sharp sound of rending fabric echoed loudly in the thick silence as he tore the material to her waist.

"I hope you didn't like this outfit."

"Henr-" His name ended in a moan as his fingers slipped over smooth satin, wet with her arousal, then under the edge of her panties. Without the impediment of her skirt, Elizabeth spread her thighs wider, giving him more access to her throbbing pussy. "Yes," she hissed, "just like that," as Henry circled her clit with firm strokes. Her belly tightened with the first hint of her orgasm, and she jerked her hips uncontrollably against the motions of his hand.

"You're so wet, baby," he muttered against her hair. "I can't wait anymore to be inside you."

Henry abruptly pulled away from her body, leaving Elizabeth momentarily bereft, shaking with need. He shoved her forward, bent over the armrest of the couch, so she caught herself with her palms flat against the cushions. Henry shoved aside the tattered remains of her skirt, pulling her underwear down to her ankles while he freed his cock from his shorts. His teeth nipped at the curve of her ass, just enough to sting. When Elizabeth pushed back into his mouth, he bit lightly, marking her soft skin.

Elizabeth kicked off her shoes to step out of her panties, but before she could, Henry jerked her hips high and plunged deep into her hot, wet sex. He fucked her relentlessly, pounding harder until the force of his motions shifted the furniture on the floor. Elizabeth dropped to her elbows, her forehead resting on her fists, her hair a curtain around her face; her spine arched impossibly as she raised her ass to him. She had no leverage to meet his thrusts, no control over the onslaught of pleasure as Henry drove them both to their climax. The delicious tension spread, coiling tighter and tighter until she couldn't think of anything but blissful release. She tried to reach her clit, nearly cried out in frustration when she couldn't touch herself.

"Henry. I'm so close."

Henry wedged a hand underneath her, her slight weight trapping his fingers against her slick flesh, his thrusts creating just the friction Elizabeth needed. When she stiffened and cried out, her muscles clenching his cock in orgasm, Henry poured himself into her with a groan.

Henry collapsed over his wife, trying not to crush her or fall to the floor himself. He wrapped his arm around Elizabeth's waist and hauled her to her feet, groaning with the strain as he struggled to balance them both.

"Damn." Despite Henry's support, Elizabeth slumped over, bracing herself against the back of the couch. She swiped sweaty strands of hair off her face, then sucked in a deep breath, and another. "I hate the gym, but I'll do that kind of cardio with you any day."

"Agreed." Henry rested his forehead against her shoulder as he panted with exertion, pulling her tighter into his embrace. "Way better than the treadmill."

Elizabeth straightened and pushed Henry away slightly so she could slide around him on shaky legs. She stripped out of her ruined clothes, humming in approval when she saw the faint bruises of Henry's fingers on her hips and the imprint of his teeth on her ass.

"Those marks can't be seen," he reminded her smugly.

Elizabeth grinned slyly in silent agreement. "You can kiss them better later," she promised. Then she quirked her eyebrow at Henry and snorted in amusement as he collapsed on the couch, shorts still around his ankles. "You just sit there and recover while I fix my sex hair and get dressed _again_." Elizabeth emphasized the last word, but her satisfied laughter contradicted any pretense of reprimand. Her fingers tangled in hopelessly tousled blonde waves. "And get rid of the evidence from our little morning workout." She indicated the ball of fabric in her fist.

Henry's laughter followed her into the bedroom as he cleaned himself up, not bothering to move from his seated position.

Less than ten minutes later, Elizabeth re-emerged, her hair impeccably styled, neatly dressed in an outfit very similar to the one Henry had destroyed.

"See? I swear your clothes are identical." He waved a hand at her, head to toe, as if to bolster his conclusion.

Elizabeth snorted in response. "We'll discuss your fashion sense later." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Which, despite Roxanne's recent influence, is obviously still lacking. In the meantime, I still have WTO remarks waiting for me." She sighed, resigned, at both her husband and the reminder of the responsibilities of her presidency.

Elizabeth reached for her previously discarded heels, wedging one, then the other, back onto her feet. "Ow!" She jerked one shoe off just as quickly, turning it upside down over her palm. A gold button dropped into her hand. She barked out a laugh, and tossed the offending object at Henry. "Don't forget to pick up your mess. Those things are worse than Legos."

Then with a wink, she strode out of the Residence to do battles with her enemies for yet another day.


End file.
